


Journal of a Voice of Drendari

by phoenixreal_gaming (phoenixreal)



Series: Zen'ina, Voice of Drendari [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Scarred Lands (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixreal/pseuds/phoenixreal_gaming
Summary: Zen's Partial Journal





	Journal of a Voice of Drendari

Time has passed.  I find that I need some sort of record of my travels for my own purposes.  They are far too fanciful for most to believe, so I have decided to record them.  My life began as something less than normal, to be sure, and it is still something less than normal.  My name is Zen’ina Fyrestarr, and I am one of the innate magics.  I read no spellbook.  I simply wield power.  This is, to some, a scary thing.  In fact, my art is usually frowned upon because of its link with the felled titan Mesos.  This I have no control of, I never have.  Here I will record memories, things that come to mind, and events in my life.  This way, when I finally am no more, someone will realize that I was not that crazy.  I carry within me the power to fell creatures of great power, and in cobination with my friends, I do this on an almost daily basis.  Why?  That is a good question, however, the answer is much more complex and hidden within this journal.  Please, whoever may be reading this, sit and read and learn what went on from the time I set out from my home in Amalthea in Corot of 150 AV through the end of my journal, or my life, whichever finds an end first.

So here I present my story.  No, not just my story.  Our story.  This is the tales of Zen’ina Fyrestarr, Draxus,  Einkill Ungarth, Corgan Irnherth, Teaka Shimmeringgold, Dhal’es Darkshine, Quarion, Gnorm, and many others.  This is our quests, our goals, our lives.

* * *

 Leaving my home for the first time was something that I found difficult.  At first.  I realized that I had no choice, however.  It was forced upon me.  I had to leave simply because everyone else had.  The Druid war brought much devestation.  I was 72 when the war with the Druid War began.  It was the same year too Amaril Shimran found me in the deepest darkest places of Amalthea.  Very shortly after I took up residence with the older elf, the war began with fervor.  Attack upon attack came.  And the war would have been won too…and much suffering averted, if not for Virduk making his power play and pulling his forces out.  The loss of Callistia was huge, but what was worse for my poor Amalthea was the loss of the forces of people whom Virduk decided to attack with the forces he pulled back.

Amaril began taking in orphans and injured early on in the war.  At first it was a child who lost his parents here and there and a person with a broken leg or arm that couldn’t fend for themselves, but by the time the war reached its height, Amaril’s abode was filled with people of all sorts and many children.  Amaril’s home was not usual however, as it had a sub floor, a hidden area of rooms beneath it.  The house itself was two stories high, but underneath were two additional levels.  Amaril just said that it was there when he bought the place for 700 gold from an elderly man who was going to live with his son.  The man could barely see, and only wanted to be rid of the place, but in his day the man had been quite the survivalist that touted that if one was ready one would survive.  He’d been ready alright, because the two subfloors had to have been dug out by him.  I found Amaril’s reasoning vague, and I found it strange that this old human would be so long sighted, but I was young and really could do nothing but help my mentor.

Once the Druid war began, Amaril began stocking up on the most unusual things, I thought, but helped him do it.  I mean, at first it seemed like the combined forces of the area would quell the forces attacking.  He’d gather nuts and dried fruits to put in the sub floor’s pantries.  He’d gather far more fire wood than one would use in ten years…or so I thought.  He bought linens and dry breads and such and bedrolls and heavy blankets.  When asked, he’d simply say he wanted to be ready for the worst if the war with the Druids went bad…which it did.  When the upper part of the house was destroyed, I was very glad for my mentor’s preparedness in the matter.  The house caught fire during a massive attack by the Druids that penetrated deep into Amalthea, destroying most in its path.  Luckily the fire did not spread down, as the man who built the house had put a stone flooring into it to protect the lower levels.  Once the upper house was destroyed it made a perfect place to hide the sick, injured and those who otherwise could not take care of themselves.  I soon became very involved with retrieving the children from the homes in the wake of destruction.

Amalthea became a war zone, and I was literally right in the middle of it.  Someone had to bring food and water to those who needed it.  I was out to retrieve a pair of children one night.  Their father had been found in the street, beyond all healing and had asked someone to save his children.  He’d left them locked in a pantry so the druids would not find them.  I left the shelter of the broken down house quietly, a thick cloak I always war on such missions so I could continue to go unseen, and also to hide bulky human children.

Night had fallen over the crushed city by the time I reached the house.  Damn Virduk for pulling out…if he hadn’t pursued his own means Amalthea might have stood, but as of now, she is falling, I thought as I pulled my hood over my face and found the house.  I went in through a window at the side that was already broken.  There was a large moon out that night, so she could see very well.  I found a pantry with the door locked and was about to use the key I  was given when something that sounded like an explosion rocked the house violently.  The floor rose at my feet at a weird angle, throwing me painfully  backward.  I heard the crashes all around me, but then I heard a horrible high-pitched scream followed by sobbing.  I had hit my own head and I reached up and pressed a hand against a bleeding wound on the back of my head, my brain addled by the bash to her skull.  I focused her eyes and saw the pantry was open…and full of debris from the ceiling. 

I stumbled forward and tripped several times, but finally I found her way to the pantry.  Inside her heart fell at the sight.  A small boy, no more than 10 lay beside an even smaller girl.  The girl’s head was crushed, one side a bloody mess.  A bunch of rubble pinned down the boy on his legs.  He was sobbing as he tried to shake his sister awake.  I asked the boy if he was hurt.  He was crying to hard to more than nod.  I began pulling the rubble away slowly and found one leg to be horribly broken and crushed.  I could see no other wounds.  I reached around him and he screamed like I’d never heard a human scream, and my hands simply sank _into_ his back…which had been crushed by something.  I pulled away as he started coughing and blood poured from his lips and he convulsed once and he fell back, eyes lifeless.  I put my hand to my mouth, only to scream as it was dripping with the boy’s blood.  I turned and ran for the door, only to be knocked off my feet by another ground shaking of some sort.

I finally made it out the door, and into the street, where I could hear battle raging nearby, the ringing of steel and the cries of the dying.  The battle was not supposed be this far into the city!  They would find me and murder me if I did not get away.  I ran down the street until I heard the quiet mewling of an infant from one of the houses.  I heard the battle closing in but I could not leave a child…

It was a small house, of stone and mortar.  Part of it had caved in.  I was surprised to find any of it intact…  I forced the door open, as fallen stones from the ceiling blocked it.  I made my way to the noise and found a small elven child crawling amidst the rubble.  I reached down and scooped it up.  Its crying did not stop but did not intensify.  I began to leave but noticed a pair of hands in the rubble, the fingers of one of them moving still.  I laid the baby down once more and began digging.  The owner of the unmoving hand was an elven woman.  The other hand clutched at the immobile and dead hand, and as I dug, found it to be a young elven male.  He was moaning, so I knew he was alive.  I felt for life in the woman, but could find none.  I pulled the man to his feet, as he slowly regained a semblance of consciousness.  He could stand, but barely.  There was a nasty head wound on the front of his head. 

I gathered the babe in my arms and slung the elf’s arm around my shoulder and half dragged him from the house and then, hiding as best I could with a moaning stumbling individual made my slow way away from the titanspawn that were nearing the area I had just been.  I hid in a corner and watched as they entered the house with the two dead children and then the one that I found the two survivors I had in tow.  I finally stumbled the rest of the way to Amaril’s, and found him waiting for me at the trapdoor that served as an entrance.  He took the elf and I cradled the babe tightly down the stairs and to the room with the rest of the orphaned and wounded.  I told Amaril the titanspawn were nearing.

 They bandaged the elf up and brought him around.  When I asked him who he was, all he could remember was his name was Dhal’es.  I smiled and told him where he was and that he would be safe.  He said he couldn’t remember anything except being wakened and brought to the place he was now.  He asked what it was like outside.  I figured him for being so addled as to not know what the devils he was talking about.  I told him that it was dark out, except of course for the bright moonshine.  It was no where near morning.  We talked for a while about Amalthea, Dhal’es not remembering much of anything.  About all he can remember is that he is a cleric of the healing goddess Madriel.  I asked if he could remember his last name, and he thought for a minute and replied that he did now…Darkshine.  He stayed for a while, longer than I expected, and helped us with the wounded.  I was glad of that.  I began to think that my life could be normal, you know.  Maybe someone like this could accept me…

But then, we realize the fallacy of youth.  He left of course, he had to go away, for no priests of Madriel lived in Amalthea, at least not for very long, and once again I was left as before.  I spoke with Aramil about this, and found out something I had not known.  He said to be wary of clerics.  He told me that sometimes, when they found people like me, and him, that they would react harshly because our magic was not like theirs.  They received their magic from the gods, so it was a gift.  We received ours from somewhere else, and many of them believed that it was a gift of the titans, particularly Mesos.  I realized then that having a normal life would never happen.

* * *

 

I never have made friends easily, for obvious reasons.  Its difficult to trust people when everyone you’ve loved or thought you’ve loved has either left you or turned their back on you.  I must admit though, I have become greatly attached to all of my friends, even the two dwarves.  I can never admit it to anyone, but I was greatly saddened when they thought that Einkill was dead or could not be restored to life.  I was very happy to have him back, despite his offensive odor.  But then, he has changed greatly since he returned to life.  I  vowed when I  lost Aramil to never care for anyone again, but I must admit I find myself caring more than I ever thought for the friends I have now.

I miss Teaka, my first real elven friend and companion.  I miss her more than can ever say.  Teaka, being the only other female in the group, shared a bond that none of the others could understand.  Teaka was different, much like me, since she was half high elf, and half wood elf.  To most that means something, but to me, that just meant she was outcast, much like I always have been. 

Inside I am very angry with this so-called Shadow Lord taking Teaka away from them.  And for some strange reason him calling the goddess Teaka followed a pretender did not sit well with me…though I could not understand why at the time.  I find the fact that the evil creature took Teaka and imprisoned her because she followed that goddess just as offensive…but not just because he took Teaka.  I’ll never forget the pure evil that emanated from the creature.  Inside I made a silent vow to myself, that if it is ever in my power to save Teaka from the horrid fate that this Shadow Lord has pronounced for her, I will do it.  I will see wrath brought on him, for bringing pain to Teaka, and for speaking ill of a goddess…

I know that it will never come to pass, because I can never be powerful enough to possibly stand up against a creature of such evil as that Shadow Lord.  I simply accepted Taeka’s loss as another of my race gone.  I am grealy saddened by this, elvenkind has been dwindled so much, first in the divine war, and then the dark druids attack and decimation of her home in Amalthea.  There are so few of my kind left, and sometimes when I think about it, I feel very sad.  Will there ever be any way to rejuvenate my people?  I shiver at thinking of my forsaken cousins…their fate is far worse than my own, at least the high elves can have some hope of continuing their race. 

* * *

 

 Family.  Its something I don’t think of very often.  I mean, it has been many long years since I have seen anyone of my family.  I wonder what I will say?  What will I do?  When, or if, I meet any of the Fyrestarr family again….  Father…I would love to see him once more and show him that I am well.  He always worried after us more than mother did.  Mother…I hope you are not dead, as I believe.  But then, you may be, and I’ll never have the chance to show you that I am not a danger to myself and all around me.

I have a family now, of my friends, but after watching Corgan and his family a longing has risen up inside me.  I would like to see Father and Mother once again, and my brothers and sisters.  I hope they are not dead.  During the war, the home that I was raised in was utterly destroyed, and no one knows who was inside when it happened.  I know my dear brother who left to become a Paladin was not, he was gone off to Mithril long before then, and Ryanne, my sister the priestess, was certainly not there.  But what of Father, Mother, Terf’na and Remshine?  I heard rumors that Mother had been in the house and perished, but what if she wasn’t?  What if she yet lives?  I really can’t say what I would do.  I do not know.

I think that I would look at her and tell her, “What of your daughter now, Mother?  Do you still deny me as a Fyrestarr?”  and if she still will not accept me as her blood, I think I would turn my back on her and say, “Then I deny being born of your blood, but I accept my Father.  You are not a blood Fyrestarr, Father is…and he never turned his back on me.”  I would hold out the Pendent Father gave to me.  “I am a Fyrestarr, by blood, and will always be.” Then I should think I would walk away, never to worry of Mother again.  And if she accepts me…I would not know what to do since I do not expect that from her.

I want to see them, just to tell them that I do care for them, and that I am seeking to help them with every titanspawn I slay with my magic.  Blood of Mesos indeed…I hold no love for the titans or their spawn, and will slay titanspawn at each oppurtuntiy, using the “gift of Mesos” against them.  I would like Gnorm to meet my brother…maybe D’ahtine will know him.  It is possible that in his years in Mithril that he’s heard of such an oddity as a winged paladin of Corean.  We will go to Mithril one day soon, and maybe then I, and Gnorm, can have some answers.

We must also go to Vera Tre.  This may mean going through Amalthea.  I’m not sure exactly how I feel about that but if it must be, it must be.  I will enter my home once more, and I will search for any Fyrestarrs that may yet live.  I will hope they all still breath but I know it may not be so.  

* * *

I wonder sometimes, at night when I sit and watch the sky, will mortal love ever find me?  I mean I have the love of the gods, and the love of the Mistress, and the love of Draxus…and I knew from the time I lived in Amalthea, that I’d never have a normal life, as no male in his right mind would love a child of Mesos, I mean if my parents couldn’t, why would anyone else?  I guess I’m hard on myself.  I’m not that different from other elves, I suppose.  But still, they’d leave me eventually, to be sure.  Or I would leave.  I mean, who would accept me?  No one has ever accepted me before, and I don’t think they will.

I suppose that somewhere there may be someone who would love me as I am…but to find him, oh that would be a journey I do not think even I would undertake.  Humans are too fickle, and they change.  And most humans I have met have a fascination with me but nothing more.  I will give humans one thing, they do live life with an almost ferocity that those of my race cannot understand.  It is hard to comprehend, being able to live life in less than one hundred years, and make something out of it.  I admire their ability to live life so quickly.  Ah, but they will never be able to appreciate the arts so much as my race.  As far as my race goes, they are far too concerned with themselves right now.  I’m an oddity.  I’ve left and chose a path with humans, and many of my kind would not see this as a favorable choice.  My race is too busy rebuilding.  And the woodland elves…well they are not something kindred to my heart. 

I think out of all the races though, the dwarves do amaze me.  I’ve been through Burok Torn and have been surrounded by them, but Corgan and Einkill still stand out.  They are unlike the other dwarves.  Well, like most.  Garritt stands out himself.  Maybe their race has had misconceptions handed down to my people as it appears my races has had misconceptions handed down to them.  I find myself pondering more and more things I have been told about others, and I realize, there are more than one exception to a way that someone is believed to be.

This is what I love.  Einkill, Corgan, Gnorm, Dhal’es, my friends are my love in life.  I’ll never know normal love.  I have Draxus now, so I have thought about something that I never thought about before, which is children.  Right now, Draxus is all I can handle, but still, one day, when he is older, will I have any children of my own flesh to give the world?  I have become more and more certain that Draxus will outlive me.  What will he do when I am gone?  I should like to leave someone of my blood so that I may live forever, in a way.  But this is something that I fear will never be.  Draxus will be my legacy if I have no other, I know this.  But that will be all…

Ah, this is for naught, as anything will happen.  I do not know for sure the future, and I do not know for sure which way my path may eventually lead.  The Mistress will show me the way, and I’m sure that will be enough.

* * *

Power is a funny thing, you know.  Its something humans covet all their short lives.  Its something the gods have an abundance of.  It’s something all right.  And I have it.  I see it every time the green energy is at the tips of my fingers.  Power.  It came natural and unbidden to me.  The energy of Mesos.  True, I am elven.  True, my people are close to magic and have always excelled at the art of magic.  I was born ten years after the Victory.  Mesos was gone, and no one wanted to think that his essence still may be around, but he was the Sire of Sorcery.  If Sorcerers such as myself can exist and can use arcane magic…he is still there in some way or another.  After all, a titan can’t be destroyed…not really.

I digress.  So what has my power gotten me?  Until recently, nothing but trouble.

When I began to develop physically as a child the powers began to manifest.  I could not control them yet.  And things seemed to…well, happen around me.  I then realized how different I was from my brothers and sisters.  My parents, reputable elves in the city of Amalthea, mostly ignored this for years. After a while, my father, Thales Fyrestarr, came to me and suggested I should be careful around my mother.  He said that she was beginning to see my innate magic as a curse on her and the rest of the family, some blight sent by the Gods as punishment for worshipping the titans before the Divine war.  I told him I would do my best but it was nearly impossible to control it.  He told me to stay away from her then, as out of sight is out of mind.  He explained that so close to the end of the Divine War my mother feared having a daughter who carried the blood of Mesos.  My family had taken to worship of Tanil before I was born, though Denev was still greatly revered in the city.  This was confusing in itself to me. Weren’t we all the children of the titans as were the Gods themselves?  I did not understand in the least at the time.  Blood of Mesos?  Wasn’t I born of my mother and father, so what did Mesos have to do with me?  I didn’t question, and I did as he said, though at the time I simply did not comprehend why of all people my own mother would think such a thing.

Well, now I know it has more to do with politics than anything.  My grandfather, Talimoon, was a great man.  He fought through the divine war and before that was a council leader.  I never could get Father to speak of him much, as he was gone before my birth, but I believe he came from one of the great elven cities on the far continent, Termana I believe is what my father called it one night when he told me a bedtime story of my grandfather.  But my mother desperately wanted our family back into the politics of Amalthea, and though the Druid War was soon to come and decimate the town, they did not know this at the time.

I was reasonably close to my one sister, Ryanne.  She was my elder by about one hundred and twenty years, and saw a lot in her lifetime.  She had known grandfather, and sometimes when I was sad she would tell stories of beauty and wonder during the divine war.  She lived with us for a short time, but for some reason as I grew older I saw less and less of my older sister.  Soon, I rarely saw her and Mother would get angry when I asked after her.  Father would eventually tell me that she had gone off to become a priestess of the Goddess Tanil.  She was the oldest of my siblings.  I had two other brothers, Remshine and D’ahtine.  Remshine was a quiet sort, and was a loner much as I was, but he and I got along well when we did speak.  He would eventually follow in father’s footsteps, much to the pride of both he and Mother, and become a merchant.  I did not hear if he survived the Druid War, and did not take the time to ask afterward in the chaos. 

D’ahtine left when I was young, and while he was young as well.  D’ahtine was free spirited and very temperamental. He often yelled at mother and sometimes father.  Though Mother was the target most of the time.  He left home and went east, though where to we did not hear.  Rumors got around in the city that he was in Mithril.  I don’t know if he even yet lives, but I do know he left before the Druid War began, so he did survive that. You know how rumors are.  Knowing my brother, I would think he would take up arms for others and become some sort of great warrior.  He was a strong and even stronger willed.  He and father disagreed about the gods and whom it was proper to follow and who deserved allegiance.  It was all in all quite a time of upheaval in our home…though nothing compared to the upheaval I caused.

Hertiama, my mother, was a seamstress and worked for many of the people on the council.  She heard many rumors and such and when I did speak with her I often tired soon of all the gossip she would bring home.  And always at her side was my younger brother, Tearf’na, who being the youngest, I felt was quite spoiled.  He was fifty years younger than I but he seemed that he was Mother’s favorite and she was constantly fawning over him.  I, having never been the type to be really close to my parents, found this disgusting in the utmost.  In looking back, I find he wasn’t really that bad, but he was the type that would tell mother anything that anyone did wrong.  Which leads to what turned me away from my family in totality.

I heard rumors that there was a great sorcerer in Amalthea.  A man of great power who was very gently and very caring.  I of course did not know much about finding information so I began to ask around about this man.  In all honesty, I did the best I could for one my age, which looking back was terrible, and quite obvious as to what I was doing.  Needless to say, word reached my parents, and once again my father came to me. He said mother was very upset to hear this and I should stop at once.  I apologized and ceased looking for the man, though I kick myself to this day realizing how close I was to finding him when Father stopped me.

Well everything, as is usual, culminated and exploded in one incident.  I could not stop my development, and things continued happening around me, though I mostly stayed away from Mother, so she did not realize how powerfully things happened now.  I sat reading on afternoon, a book on the Divine War, and all was silent.  Suddenly though I heard someone yelling at me, it was my younger brother, Tearf’na, as usual, bugging me as good younger siblings do.  I told him I was busy and go play by himself, but he kept on, and finally ran up and grabbed the book from my hands.  I looked at him and grabbed the book back, but there was a flash, probably just in my own field of vision and the next thing I knew he was getting up off the floor on the other side of the room, with a hand to his nose, which had begun to bleed.  He had a horrible frightened look on his face, and I stood up and tried to apologize, but he burst into tears and ran for mother.  I sighed, knowing I was in for it now, and sat back down, and continued reading.

Mother came into the room, with my brother at her back, peeking around her a cloth at his nose.  She looked at me, but I dared not look up from my book at her.  I feared what I knew was in her eyes.

“What have you done?” she asked in that calm tone that you can always tell is one the edge of furious explosion.

“It was an accident.  I said I was sorry,” I said, not lifting my eyes.  This was the confrontation I had been dreading, because deep inside I knew it would come.

“An accident?  How can you call flinging someone across the room an accident?” she asked, still in that deadly calm voice.

“I didn’t intend to do it, so it was an accident,” I said shrugging, my eyes still on the book.

She stepped in front of me and jerked the book from my hands.  I looked up and she stared at me with eyes like one would stare at a stranger who has just robbed them.  “I thought you would become like your grandfather.  I thought you would take a place on the council one day.  That was my hope when you were born so close to the time he disappeared.”

I simply stared.  How was one supposed to respond to that?  I shrugged again.  “Why can’t I do that?”

She did something then that I would have never expected in a million years.  She backhanded me across the face with all her strength.   I was startled more than anything, and my hand went to my face.  I stared at her in absolute horror at what I was seeing. 

“You are a daughter to Mesos, not me.  I don’t know where you came from.  How dare you think one of the blood of Mesos could sit on Council or be compared to a great man like your Grandfather, Talimoon Fyrestarr.  I would that the Gods would allow me to strike you dead for being what you are,” she said with absolute dead calm.

I only stared for a moment in shock, my hand on my face, my mouth open.  This was my _mother_ , the one who gave me life…  I felt something deep inside me.  It felt…like I was grasping whatever was running rampant inside of me.  I stood up with enough force to push her back a few feet before me so I could stand.  I was already an inch taller than she, and she was not an imposing figure at all.  For a moment, something else crossed her calm face, fear.

“How dare you…” I whispered, pointing a finger at her, and I could not believe my own voice, it sounded different…somehow.  I felt something, like breaking or snapping, but it was more…like control, and as the words were spoken I saw everything in my vision with a cast of green to it.  The hand I had raised had a faint green energy crackling at the tips of my fingers.

She stared at me, and said in a angry tone, “Witch!  You may as well be one of Mormo’s hags.  You are not one of my blood!  Out with you and don’t return to my home!”  Her voice had easily risen two octaves as she spoke, and my younger brother ran from the room.  I felt something dull rush over me, dull and cold.  I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m a Fyrestarr by blood and name,” I whispered.

“Not any more!” she said quietly and grabbed the signet necklace around my neck and ripped it off.  I placed my hand where it had been, unbelieving of what she had just said.  She turned as if to go and I reached out and grabbed her shoulder.  She violently shook me off.

“You can’t take the blood from my veins…” I said low and slowly, my words sounding very…ominous even to myself.  She snarled.

“You are no better than titanspawn.  You are not my blood.  You are the blood of Mesos.  One day it will be your downfall, and some crusader will rid the world of you,” she said her face once again in that dead calm expression.

“If you believe so,” I said grabbing an ornamental dagger from a shelf and placing it at my heart.  “Slay me yourself!”

She only looked at me.  “I would not grant you the mercy of dying,” she said and left the room, leaving me cold and shivering.  I fell to the floor and put my head in my hands, and wept until I felt someone touch my shoulder.  I looked up to see my father’s calm face. 

“Please, my child, leave before your mother returns.”  I looked at him sadly.  “Here take this and go find your sorcerer out there.  I’m sure he exists, but go find him…” he said placing his own signet necklace in my hand.  I stared dumbly at it for a moment. “Go!” he whispered and shoved a pack at me.  “Quickly, my love,” he said and pulled me to my feet and kissed me on the head. 

I turned and took the back stairs out to the streets of Amalthea, where I remained for ten years.  Eventually, I ran into an old elf.  He looked me over and told me to come with him.  I went and he made me his maid, I guess you would say.  Soon, though I found out the truth.  This elf was Aramil Shimran…the very elven sorcerer I had been searching for.  He trained me in controlling my power.  Soon though the Druid War was upon us and we did our best to aid those who needed aiding.  I rescued many people from the piles of rubble and Aramil managed to heal them.  It was there I met Dhal’es Darkshine, who I could have loved.  Sad things happen in my life, and when Dhal’es took off to become a faithful worshipper of Madriel, I have to admit my hopes for a normal future went out the window.  I should have known better than to even think my life could be normal.  I told myself then I would never love anyone, because it hurt too much when they hurt you.

Then I lost Aramil.  He came to me one day and said he was leaving, and he left me with some things and told me to watch after his home. This I did for some time until I grew bored with Amalthea.  There had to be something else out there.  Something…to care for.  Though I had to learn how to do that again, because I had forgotten.

I do not know if any live still.  I had not heard of any of them when I left Amalthea, but then I didn’t search either, as the pain was too fresh.  Maybe one day I will go seek them out if they remain.  I hope the rumors are true that my brother D’ahtine went to Mithril to become one of the Warriors of Corean.  I look at Gnorm and think of him sometimes, as they are similar.   The same tenaciousness, the same love for life and the love for protecting it.  Maybe when we go to Mithril to collect our money from the sale of those magical items in Savan I can ask after him…maybe he will remember his wild little sister…

Now Power is my ally.  I defeat the evil titanspawn with the powerful spells I summon forth.  True, not all things can I kill, but a lot I can.  I come to realize that other people should not be feared.  Not when they are your friends.  I’ve made amends with my past…since Draxus came along. I had to.  I have a new power now, that of love.  Dhal’es has returned to my life, but only as a faithful friend, and nothing more.  I have made friends I could have never made inside Amalthea, the Dwarves Einkill and Corgan, and also the intriguing Gnorm who seems to be at least half my kind.

What have I learned of power?  Other magic users I have since met, who name themselves wizards, covet my kind of power.  One such is Dhal’es faithful friend Tamaril.  I smile though because he has to…study spells to cast them…. this I find strange.  He has this little book he calls a spellbook where spells are written and he has to study them each day.  He seems to think that my abilities are interesting, because I simply do what I do.  I think for a few minutes in the morning and focus my inner power…but I don’t have to do anything else.  My guess is wizards know a lot of stuff, more than me, but they don’t have my versatility from what I’ve seen.  I think I’d rather be able to do what I do rather than what they do.  I guess it’s all the same, but I think it’s far different. 

Power…I have it; it came to me natural and unbidden.  I didn’t want it.  I didn’t ask for it.  Without it I would have lived a normal life, probably become a diplomat, if the Druid War hadn’t killed me as it did my mother and possibly my father and other siblings.  But without this power, I would not have the friends I have now, and I would not have Draxus, and I would not have the Mistress to guide me…and many titanspawn would still live.

* * *

 

 

I have found my mind wandering back to thoughts of Teaka now and again lately.  Where is she and how am I ever going to find her?  Her abduction was the beginning of my journey and I can’t ever stop this journey until her situation in finalized.  I cannot help it.  If nothing else, I want to thank her for showing me, however inadvertently, to the Mistress.  But I find myself in a dilemma.  How can I go after her when I can’t even get any information from the other Shadow Walkers about this “shadow lord”?  If it is that much of a challenge, is there any way to make it out alive?

      I now have to think about that.  I’m not just considering my own life, but the life of my child…er whatever you want to call him.  Draxus is important, very important, and I knew this when I took on the task.  I can’t put myself in the position that will allow no chance for survival.  I have a task to fulfill, and that is to raise Draxus.  I can’t go off into a situation in which I will die, and he may possibly die as well.  I can’t let that happen.  Draxus cannot die, and I have to fulfill the vow I’ve made to take care of him.

      Our bond is double now, our life energies intertwined.  I cannot put myself in that great of peril for fear of hurting him.  As a Shadow Walker, I should also never find myself in such a situation.  I should always have a way out…  So here I sit with a huge dilemma.  I must help Teaka, and bring her back, if she still lives.  If she does not, I must avenge her wrongful death in the name of the Mistress because Teaka’s only crime was gaining the aide of the Mistress.  For that alone, now that I have come to know the Mistress should merit retribution, but if it turns out that Teaka is indeed dead, and the only thing to be gained by going after her murderer would be a meaningless death, I will have no choice but to let things stand as they are.   This is not what I want.  I want Teaka alive, even though we knew each other such a short time, she was and still is a Wayfarer.  And a Wayfarer never deserves such a death.  Mistress, guide me to the answers I seek when I am ready.  Until then, guide me to what I need to become so I may be ready and help me protect my charge, my son, though he may not be of my flesh, he is my own.

* * *

 

Amalthea is a dead place, but we tried so hard to breathe life into it.  I tried very hard until the day I left.  And I cannot tell you why.  My parents lived through the Divine War in Amalthea, and were among those few that were found frightened inside the University of the Arts.  They couldn’t explain things any better than I am about to.  One of my father’s brothers in fact, who I met only once that I can recall, was in fact one of those driven mad by whatever happened.  He disappeared one morning when I was about seven teen years of age and never returned.  There were others like him, and it was horrible to know that no one could explain exactly why that had happened or even why they had been inside the University in the first place.  The city yet stood…relatively untouched, but they were inside the University, a mere few thousand of what had been before.  My parents were among them, and they didn’t know why either.  They had no idea why they were scared, and up until I was cast from my house, would not speak of the University in the slightest. 

It was a beautiful city though, in my oldest memories, before the Druid War.  I remember its beauty and people.  There were so many people who came to the city!  It seemed there was always someone new here or there that had come out of the woodwork, and even the most unlikely types stayed to help Amalthea.  And for some reason, all took to Denev very quickly. I remember my father doing a great business in town.  All the people that flooded into the city, revitalizing it completely.  I still remember the times father would send me into the market square with a hand full of silver rivers to buy myself some sweets from far off places when the traveling men came to town.  I grew up around a lot of humans, and a lot of hin as well.  Dwarves, however were an uncommon site.  Then everything exploded.  Well, it exploded in my world, anyways. 

I was cast from my home and soon there after found by my mentor, Aramil.  I think he knew something was brewing because he made preparations for a siege.  Then the world fell in on Amalthea, my precious home.  Considering that I was not a Denev worshipper, this may sound strange, but because of my power, I had never held great affinity for any, god or titan.  And it seemed Aramil felt the same.  We lived peacefully for a while, in the strange house with the underground safe house below it.  And it is a good thing that Aramil sensed the coming storm.  It was not very long until the Druid war came raging at our doors. 

We would have stood.  We had all we needed.  Amalthea had great strong walls, and will support, we surely would have survived in tact.  However cursed Calastia pulled their troops away, and when they did, our decimated peoples could not hold the walls.  Our defense had been broken.  Titanspawn flooded the city and we tried our best to hold them off.  Aramil’s home was curiously close to the University, at the heart of the city.  No one went inside any longer.  It was just something you did not question.  But steadily the people of Amalthea died.  And they kept dieing.  The Druids of Khirdet, the evil beasts that they are, and their titanspawn kept pressing us more and more.  And soon, all would be destroyed and we knew it as the people of Amalthea died around us.  Aramil and I did our part, rescuing what children we could and trying to help, but in the end it wasn’t enough.  We had to leave before things got really bad, and then we found ourselves inside the University of the Arts.  Huh?  Oh, well, there was nothing inside it of course, it had not been entered as far as I know since the Divine War ended.  And the battles raged on, the forces from Vera-Tre and Vesh finally arrived and pushed back the armies of Khirdet and the titanspawn.  But still…there we were, probably no more than one or two thousand of us…if that many.   Amalthea was dead, and we all knew it in our hearts.

But no one left.  We rebuilt outside the old city and started anew.  I can’t tell you why we did it.  By all rights we should have left and gone somewhere else, like Vera-Tre.  But we didn’t.  New people even started to flow in to rebuild the city outside the old city.  I cannot tell you why, as I do not know.  Aramil helped with the sealing of the University.  I can’t tell you even why we did that…but we all, even those of us as young as I, knew it had to be done.  You’ll get a dozen answers if you ask someone why they think it was done.  As far as I know there is no real reason to speak of…I don’t know why.  I don’t know why to the day I left Amalthea I felt it necessary to never speak of where exactly int eh Old City the University lay…and I still feel that compulsion, and it is something I can never reveal, no matter how long I’m away from dear Amalthea.  The Old City is to be left alone…until we can find the necessary ways to rebuild the city in its grandeur.  Khirdet wants something and I cannot tell you what, but I know that it cannot be revealed.  It’s an odd thing to know what you have got to do…but not knowing why.  We just have to keep the University safe.  I can assure you, do not go on an unguided tour of the old city…the defenses on the University are great and powerful, and they are strengthened very often.  You cannot see it, and you best not search.

I will give you the honest answer you want.  I don’t know why we do not just rebuild the city anew and ignore the lost Old City.  I do not know what is in the University or why we protect it.  I just know it has to be…and that is an eerie sensation I can assure you!

Why did I leave?  There is the trick question.  Would you believe I don’t know?  It was a while after Aramil left, and I realized that something was calling me…a sense of wonder and adventure in my very empty soul.  I had to find my own life, my own calling, and though I love my dear Amalthea, I am not a devout worshipper of the earth Mother.  In fact, no gods or goddesses called to me until I began adventuring.  I will say this, the Way of the Wayfarer answers many questions in your life, except of course my questions about my dear Amalthea.  If you ever find out why we protect the University and the old city, do come and inform me…I’d like to know what exactly I would defend with my life…

* * *

 “I’m the Shadow, not the Light…”

 I don’t know much at this very moment.  It has been a long time since I wrote for this book.  I really haven’t felt the need to talk like this for quite a while, but now I find it necessary.  That is so much the truth for me, but now the light has begun to seek me out.  I have been the shadow of Einkill and Corgan somewhat for a long time, and always I have been the shadow of Dhal’es, as he is caster of the light.  Something inside me feels like this is the way it should be.  My shadow self, if you will, thinks that it is perfectly fine but my flamboyant spirit doesn’t care for it at all, and never has.  There is part of me that enjoys performing.  Singing and telling stories and such.  Some part of me t hat reaches for attention in ways.

What better cover though?  I mean really.  Who would ever think that I, the bright vibrant and friendly elven sorceress,  am becoming a creature of Drendari’s?  I’ve heard tales of the Final Gifts of the Mistress, but I’ve yet to meet someone who has ascended that high in her graces.  So this will be new for me as my power in the shadows grows daily.  I wait her grace, eventually.  Maybe at that time I will have her visions.  Maybe then I will visit my eyes upon her face.  My vibrancy is a wonderful disguise though for what I really am.  My closest friends do not even realize.  True…I will admit, I have made comments to them that they may realize that something about me is different than most magic wielders.  I am too adept at using my skills in the shadow to help them.  They do not ask.  They are my friends and will not do so, because they trust me.  I admit it now.  I trust them.

Long ago I decided I would never trust.  Long ago I decided I would never love.  And here I sit.  I trust them more than anyone else, and I love them more than anyone else.  I’ve changed.  I’ve decided that that is the way it is.  I trust them.  All that work I went to making myself distant from my emotions and unattached to the people around me was all for naught.  Because here I am at this point in my life ready to give my life for my friends, and for strangers.  And I love them all.  Maybe this has been a change that should not have come about.  I’ve learned more love from Draxus and from the Mistress than I’ve ever known in my entire long life.  Now this Arrach has come into my life, uninvited.  He threatens to take away all I have worked for with this group of friends.  He seeks to make me nothing more than a slave to his will.  What will I do?

I have to say that simply put, I despise the creature that he is.  He rules undead.  He kills.  And he wants me to take some of this power.  I don’t want it.  What do I do if he takes me?  I won’t go…unless I have no choice.  My heart will not permit met to watch people suffer, and if he intends to make me an offer to force me to go by choice, and it means saving lives by doing so, I will do so.  If he tells me I will go with him, or he will slaughter all in the Fort, I will go without a struggle.  I have many powers though.  I can travel in shadows, and there are many ways I could escape from a place that would try to hold me.  But there are ways to stop that as well.  I will not be vain enough to believe that if I am to go with him, for any reason, then I will be able to definitely free myself.  There are ways to negate magic I am sure, since I myself know ways to make a spell go away, and there are ways to keep me from the shadows, I am also just as sure.  Without magic or shadows…I’m as helpless as a peasant girl.  Perhaps my biggest fear is that.  Not being able to use my two most powerful allies.

If this happens I will be force to rely on the others.  I will have to trust them, or more than that I will have to reveal my trust in them.  I will have to trust them that should he manage to force me away to his lair somehow, then Einkill, Corgan, and Dhal’es will come for me.  The shades and Draxus maybe be able to aid them in some fashion.  I am not certain what I will do, as there are many ideas floating in my mind.  Kelders…that is where he is from, but that is a large expanse.  If I have the choice, I may have a plan. 

Peace of mind is a valuable commodity, it is too bad I will not find it anytime soon.  This weighs heavily on my mind much lately.  It cannot be avoided.  I know the others think I’m exaggerating issues.  None of them have seen his eyes.  They cannot know.  They have no clue how serious this really is.  I don’t really think they truly believe me when I tell them what I think he will do.  Well, we will see.  So, I might be able to aid them if something does happen, and I can prepare.

I think will instruct my shades to follow behind.  The others do not know of them yet, however, I will instruct them at the time I leave to follow the Shadows I leave behind me.  They will not understand until they see the shades beckoning.  This is assuming this will work out right.  But perhaps the shades can keep track of me and Jarren may be able to find the path back.  I can hope that they have some sense of  me like Draxus does.  Maybe this will work.  But it is one idea.  I think I will leave my cloak with Corgan.  He will be able to move unseen the best and fastest of all of them if one of them is meant to tail me.  Hopefully they will be able to contact Tendra for help, but Dhal’es still has no luck using the sending spell to contact outside the area.  And hopefully there will be someone to help.  If not, my only hope is that Drendari herself may watch my steps.  I have not yet decided about whether to take or leave Draxus if I am given the choice.  I do not know where he would be safer.  It is granted that he would be able to help the others find me, but in a minimal way.  I do not know on that.

Am I scared?  Am I angry?  Yes.  Wouldn’t you be?  I’ve spent my life becoming independent and becoming the individual I am.  Which weighs more the anger or fear?  I cannot tell you.  What do I do?  I sit here and I’ve got little choice.  I have the creeping sensation that when it comes down to things…I’ll have no choice.  This is the price I pay.  I know that the only way for word of my existence to spread is through bardic song.  I did not think of the harm of becoming well known, but now I think I know it too well. 

I am the shadow, not the light.  That is the way it is, but here I am, being pulled into the light…or into the darkness?  I don’t know which.  He offers me power I don’t want.  He wants me.  And he had the chance to take me, and did not do so.  So I stand by my conclusion that there is some reason beyond the simplistic for that.  I do not believe that he thought I was too powerful at that moment.  I was out of spells nearly completely.  I had no defenders.  Einkill, Dhal’es and Corgan were not with me.  Why didn’t he?  And why the circle?  What does it mean?  I don’t know, but I have the eeriest feeling that I’m going to find out.

If only I could get his eyes out of my mind.  They burn there like they did in his face.  And something about them I cannot forget.  Einkill says that to fear something is to invite it.  Maybe that is better than wondering what will happen.  I do not believe he endangers my life.  Somehow, I know he doesn’t intend my death.  Else why would he have not killed me?  No, he wants me alive to be his “wife” and the thought sickens me.  But I will play along if I have to.  When the time comes, if I must leave with him, and suffer through whatever…things…I must, if it saves the people of Fort Anvule.

They are smart.  They know I’m a danger to their living forces.  Given time and a place to cast from I know my powers enough to know that I could do massive damage to their forces.  So now they seek to take away that problem.  I’m not sure.  Is this creature something that they brought in for this express purpose?  Maybe defeating all the major creatures that they sent at them forced them to find someone…less regulation army.  Someone that they could count on to be efficient, and that would do it because he wanted to. 

He wanted me, perhaps.  He perhaps agreed to do what he is doing for reasons of his own.  Maybe he agreed to help them if he could have me.  I don’t know, but time will tell, of that I am certain.  Horror filled the battlefield during the night as we battled the strange undead that were harder and harder for us to kill and for us to defeat.  And the others are all concentrating on what they must.  Dhal’es heals people.  This is as it should be.  Einkill does what he does best, he’s leading the people, and Corgan helps him.

I don’t think any of them realize that this is as serious as I believe it to be.  I can only say that fate has come to bear.  Whether for the good or bad, I do not know just yet.  I suppose that will remain to be seen.  What will come of it?  I feel that things will happen no matter what.  The Mistress will watch over her pious and I will continue to be faithful.  I will continue to thank all the Gods of Scarn for their aid, for they are all a part of what happens.  I will wait.  I will see what happens to me and pray that I will make it through it no matter what.  I fear that it will leave me cold, as I was before I met the others.  I will do all I can not to allow that to happen…but if I do, then it will be a lot of work to bring myself away from that attitude.  I only hope things work out.  But fate will lead me where it will.  I fear this man, or creature or whatever you want to call him.  I cannot deny it.  But whatever happens, I will stand firm and will not accept his power.


End file.
